<p>One by one, the other Marshans step away from my and Hanne’s sim until it’s just the two of us, the fire crackling, the weight of the evening hanging over, between us. We stand in silence for a few long moments before I stumble back over to the couch and fall heavily into the cushions. I bury my face in my hands and only then let the grief take me.</p>
<p>Hanne sits beside me, gets her arm around my back. She rests her head on my shoulder, letting the wave of emotion overcome me. At first, she asks if I’m alright, then she whispers a few “I’m sure it’ll work out”s and “it’s going to be okay”s before eventually just sitting with me in silence.</p>
<p>“This is really fucking weird,” I say once I’m able to speak again. The sound of speech echoes strangely in my head, muffled in that post-cry mess. “I don’t even know who I’m crying for. It’s not like they’re a parent, I came from them, but they aren’t me, either.”</p>
<p>“Still,” she says, leaning over to kiss my cheek. It feels too hot, too intense a sensation, but I feel calmness radiate from that spot all the same. “If nothing else, you can lay down in the dark and give your poor eyes a break. Plus, <em>I</em> need to sleep, at least.”</p>
<p>How can I stand, knowing as I do that the clade had become unmoored? How can I think of sleep when there might be some remnant of Marsh somewhere in the wires? Some ghost of them in the machine that was the System? If this System is a dream, as Dry Grass and the rest of her clade had promised the world, then oughtn’t there be some wisp of emh of memory from which deeper archives could be dredged? Even a Marsh from decades back would still be a Marsh worth bringing back.</p>
<p>I sway for a moment, feeling reality shift unsteadily beneath me. Once I straighten up, I follow Hanne off to our bedroom. We’d spent the previous night, as we often did, sleeping in two separate beds — I always get too warm sleeping next to someone — but any grounding force feels welcome now, so, with a gesture, the two beds slide together, merging seamlessly into one.</p>
<p>A hollow feeling bubbles up within me. The two beds merging into one was an image of something now well beyond the Marsh clade. I’m thankful I’ve already cried myself dry.</p>
<p>The lights dim to near darkness and the temperature drops a few degrees as me and Hanne strip and settle beneath the covers, her arms snug around me.</p>
<p>“I love you, Reed,” she mumbles against the back of my neck. “I’m sorry I got so stressed before, but I love you. You know that, right?”</p>
<p>I slouch back against her. “I know. I love you too.”</p>
<p>As expected, sleep does not come. Exhaustion pulls at me, exerting its own gravity, but too many emotions crowd it out. Too many emotions and too many thoughts. I spend a few minutes chiding myself — shouldn’t I sleep, if only to be more refreshed for the next day? — before giving in and letting my mind circle around each of those emotions, each of those thoughts.</p>
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<p>There’s the faintest brush against my sensorium. Vos.</p>
<p><em>“How’re you two holding up?”</em> I send.</p>
<p><em>“I imagine not.”</em> After a moment, I add, <em>“Do you have any more information?”</em></p>
<p>The faintest sense of a shake of the head before Vos says, <em>“Nothing. They were here, then they weren’t. There’s no trace. It’s almost as thought they never existed. Pierre fell asleep a bit ago. I think he wore himself out trying to reach them.”</em></p>
<p><em>“We wind up in feedback loops a little too easily.”</em> I stifle a snort of laughter. Hanne mumbles something incoherent against my neck in her sleep. <em>“It drives Hanne nuts. That’s why she was yelling about me doing it again.”</em></p>
<p><em>“Oh, trust me, Marsh winds up in–“</em> The message stops abruptly, and I find myself holding my breath, checking the time several times in a row, wary of further jumps. A few seconds later, Vos continues, voice shaky. <em>“They, uh…they</em> wound <em>up in their own feedback loops.”</em></p>
<p>I bury my face against the pillow, take long, slow breaths, willing myself to make as little noise as possible so as not to wake Hanne. How can I lay there, knowing as I do that Marsh was gone? How can I speak to Vos, knowing that I should be doing something, not crying in bed, accepting a fate that made no sense? Is it just some hopeless part of me that had accepted Marsh’s absence? Oughtn’t I be striving even now to find some way to get them back?</p>
